


nocturnal

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: At one point, Akaashi had suggested counting sheep, but Bokuto had asked what kind of sheep, which meant at three in the morning, Akaashi was bent over his cell phone and researching ruminant mammals and trying to impress upon Bokuto the real definition of sheep husbandry while Bokuto sat on the floor and kept on insisting Akaashi show him only the pictures of the fluffiest sheep, which, was not really what Akaashi had intended.





	

Akaashi wasn’t a light sleeper, but he woke up at the _poomph_ sound beside him. The sticky nights of summer blanketed over the classroom in an intoxicating warmth. He shifted under the thin sheets. The pillow, though unfamiliar, had an appropriate softness. The crickets sang. After a few minutes, someone padded across the classroom’s floorboards. The doors slid open. The hallways creaked into nothingness and Akaashi slipped back into sleep until he heard the next _poomph_. Floorboards squeaking. Door clicking open, then shut. Footsteps in the hallway. A few minutes later, _poomph_.

In the morning, Akaashi folded his futon. He had slept beside the wall, a favored sleeping spot. Only one person had slept beside him. 

“Sleep well, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked cheerfully. 

“Yes.” 

“I did, too! Let’s get ready for the new day!” Bokuto bounced up, carrying the futon in his arms. The floorboards squeaked with a familiar hitch. 

**good exercise**

The alumni had dug deep into their pockets this year, appreciative of last year’s Nationals appearance. For a short burst of their winter, the team would stay at a moderate hotel while training at a nearby school. The hotel itself had an artful shine, grooming the beige and gray coats of paint into a cozy feeling rather than dilapidated. The balcony railing, swirling with floral design, possessed a delightfully impersonal air. While the rooms themselves had been sparsely decorated, some rooms only hosting a single sconce for atmospheric light, Akaashi had no qualms. His only complaint derived from the hasty game beside the team bus and the beaming face of his most troublesome upperclassman over the shortest stick. 

“It’ll be fun,” Bokuto said, throwing his bag across the small room. “We’ll have fun!” 

Akaashi wasn’t a light sleeper, but even he woke up at the shuffling in the middle of the night. He’d fallen asleep on his bed after an exhausting day of exercise. He barely cracked open an eye to see Bokuto’s silhouette pull on track pants. Bokuto had no qualms about silence, given his clomping across the room. The door opened and then shut. The air had a lean nippiness, sharp enough for Akaashi to hide his hands underneath the covers. He heard someone walking outside. Each footstep crunching over the dry leaves resounded in the courtyard. 

There was no reason for Bokuto to be awake. They had both stayed late at practice and Akaashi was already falling asleep again. Then again, he supposed tiring Bokuto out would be a nigh impossible task. Bokuto’s guardians must have had their hands full when he was a toddler. Toddlers, who toddle. He must have been truly sleepy to be this silly, he scolded himself. He took advantage of the quiet room to sleep again. 

**music and noise**

It wasn’t any of his business how Bokuto slept, but since they were temporarily roommates, Akaashi acquiesced to the silent peer pressure.

“Do you mind if I play something on my phone?” 

“Is it a cat video? A dog video? Owl?” Bokuto sprang to Akaashi’s bedside in seconds. 

“It’s something to help me sleep.” Akaashi flicked open the video. On an earlier break, while chugging down his water bottle, he had explored the world wide web in search of a good noise video. Waterfalls, forest noises, and countless gorgeous crashing waves of gentle foam and thin fingers of water later, he found the perfect video. ‘Soothe your crying baby – white noise.’ 

The ambiguous static streamed from his phone’s small speakers. He clicked off the electronic glare and placed his phone face down on the dresser between them. The hotel had thin walls, after all. In the deepest of the night, every sound could be heard throughout the floors. Bokuto had excitedly reported that he had walked to the south wing and overheard two people jumping on the bed, agreeing quite adamantly that jumping on the bed felt very good, so he would like to jump on the bed, too. Akaashi clicked up the speaker’s volume. 

“It’s noisy,” Bokuto complained, planting both hands over his ears. 

“Please bear with this.” Akaashi laid down on his bed, yanked on his lamp’s light, pulled the covers to his throat, and stuck his arms straight against his sides. He heard Bokuto grumble, but the tell-tale click turned off the last light of the room. The vague brightness over Akaashi’s eyelids faded away. Though he had no personal investment in the matter, he did hope Bokuto would sleep well with the newfound sound. During training camp, he sometimes woke up to see Bokuto snoring, covers barely covering his midriff where his shirt had ridden to his chest. It was an endearing sight, and some strong feeling always welled up in Akaashi when he stood over him. The strong feeling was wanting to plant a foot onto Bokuto’s stomach, especially when Bokuto slept late.

He heard Bokuto roll around on the bed. The white noise muffled most of the noises, but Akaashi traced the faint rustle of fabric and the faded stretch of a shoe. When Akaashi finally turned to his side, the bed beside him was empty.

**warm milk**

“Having trouble sleeping, Akaashi?” Konoha had the door open to his room, where Komi already splayed out on the bed without any sign of coming up for air. Akaashi wrapped his hands around the mug of warm milk, ceramic still hot in his hands. 

“This is for Bokuto-san,” he said. 

“Oh, that guy. Can he not sleep? I didn’t know that,” Konoha said. “He always has energy in the morning.” 

“Is he sensitive to changes?” 

“That guy and sensitive? Nah. No way.” 

Akaashi wound his way back to his room. Through the thin walls, he could still hear Konoha trying to usher Komi out of his bed. When he opened the door, Bokuto had fanned a pack of cards out on his bed. 

“It’s fun to play cards with the other teams,” Bokuto said, shuffling the cards back to his hand. “What you got there, Akaashi? Having trouble sleeping?”

“This is for you.”

“For me?” Bokuto scrambled off the bed. His shoulders drooped in disappointment at the lackluster gift, but he still pulled out a chair and began sipping at the milk. He stuck his tongue out at the heat, but still took dangerously large gulps. 

“Are you sensitive to changes, Bokuto-san?”

“Me and sensitive? Nah. No way.” Bokuto stuck out his tongue again and puffed across the milk’s surface. “Besides, I’ve slept in tons of new places. Ask me about any of them! I’ll tell you all about it.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on, Akaashi!” But Bokuto couldn’t coax a question from Akaashi. The heavy scent of warmed milk lingered in the room. When the time came to turn off the lamp lights, a flutter of hope lilted inside Akaashi’s chest. He closed his eyes to Bokuto’s snoring, and only opened them again in the midst of the cool night, to the sound of the door opening again. 

**meditation**

“This isn’t a very fun game, Akaashi.” Bokuto frowned at the ceiling. Only the sconce lit up the back wall. The rest of the room had been darkened with the heavy curtains drawn. Akaashi had pulled the chair beside Bokuto’s bed and bit back another yawn. Following the old adages of being swift like the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, and unshakable like a mountain, Akaashi had placed his book in front of the alarm clock in a cunning, strategic move.

“Just close your eyes,” Akaashi said. “Inhale through your nose for four seconds. Hold that for seven seconds. Exhale for eight.”

“Got it,” Bokuto said. “Inhale for eight seconds, hold it for four, and exhale for seven.” 

When Bokuto’s breathing smoothed out, Akaashi rose from his chair. Swallowing back another yawn, he pulled the chair back to the desk and rose on his toes to switch off the sconce. 

“Was that supposed to do something?” he heard Bokuto ask behind him. Akaashi still twisted the knob and the light flickered off. No light arose from the room. Akaashi stumbled back to his bed and crawled beneath the sheets. 

“We’ll try another game,” Akaashi mumbled into his pillow.

“Cards?”

“Close your eyes and think about being somewhere nice. A happy place. But nothing too exciting. Or heart-pounding. Or stressful,” he added, eyes flying open. He had wondered if Bokuto had too much excitement before he finally went to bed, and didn’t want Bokuto to daydream about tense volleyball matches before he slept. If he slept. Akaashi waited for another beat. Bokuto breathed easily.

“Are you thinking about something?” Akaashi asked softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m in a room,” Bokuto said. “It’s warm, but not too warm. I’m in a bed. I got my eyes closed. You’re next to me.”

“Bokuto-san, that’s just our hotel room.”

“Oh.” Bokuto twisted in his bed. “What do you think about before you go to sleep, Akaashi? Really boring stuff? Like schedules and meetings and homework?”

“I don’t think about much,” Akaashi said honestly. At the end of the day, he simply fell into bed and slept. He turned his head enough to catch Bokuto’s silhouetted form. In the darkness, he could barely make out the slope of the sheets and the ruffles of messy hair. His eyes felt heavy. He wondered if Bokuto simply had too much energy and became restless in new places to sleep. But his groggy mind couldn’t untangle the long line of thought. He settled back into his pillow. When he woke up the next morning, Bokuto was already getting ready for the day. His shoes had been tossed by the door, a different place than where Akaashi had placed them the night before.

**worries**

“I’m not really the worrying type,” Bokuto said.

“It could be anything,” Akaashi said. “Anything that worries you.” Bokuto frowned again and tipped back on the chair. Akaashi hadn’t gotten undressed for bed, trying his best to stay awake. He had placed two books in front of his alarm clock, though he knew he was only doubling his futility.

“I don’t know how to spell worry,” Bokuto said.

“Anything else that worries you.”

“Sometimes,” Bokuto said, head dipped down, “when I go to the toilet, I think, wow! This toilet paper roll is the wrong way! But do you think there is a wrong way, Akaashi? Do you think toilet paper roll positions can be wrong?”

“Anything else.”

“One time, when we were going out to eat, I ate a lot. But then when I tried to find my napkin, I didn’t see it. Do you think I ate my napkin?”

“No.”

“What about you, Akaashi? What worries you?” Bokuto leaned forward on his knees, all the chair legs digging onto the floor. Akaashi folded his hands across his lap, unfolded them, and refolded them. Many things worried him. For example, he was concerned Bokuto actually had eaten that napkin. He was also concerned about the time Bokuto spent on the toilet. While he was worrying, he might as well worry about Bokuto’s test scores in his classes. 

“I’m worried about you,” Akaashi finally said. 

“Why?” Bokuto blinked. 

“You have trouble sleeping at night.” 

“Oh, you noticed?” Bokuto laughed in a loud boom, arms crossed over his chest. The neighboring classmates would feel that. Akaashi sighed. 

“That does concern me,” Akaashi told his hands, “but also, I wonder if my presence disturbs you. If you’re only unable to sleep when we’re sharing a room.”

“Akaashi is worried about me!” Bokuto flung his arms up, and then frowned. “Wait, is that a good thing? Hey, Akaashi, tell me.”

“How would I know?”

“Then it’s a good thing.” Bokuto grinned. “But it’s not you, so don’t worry, don’t worry.”

If he could be assuaged by Bokuto’s loud words, then he wouldn’t worry at all. Instead, he woke to the sound of an opening door latch. The curtains had been accidentally parted enough to allow a sliver of moonlight into the room, which flooded the empty bed. The sheets had been pushed aside in loose rumples. Akaashi closed his eyes again. 

**good night**

Akaashi had already slipped on his shoes and wrapped a short scarf around his neck when Bokuto rose from the bed. 

“Did I wake you?” Bokuto asked. His voice was still loud, but he had the tempered hush to his tone, like he was doing his best to keep silent. Akaashi shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Bokuto pulled on a jacket. 

The hotel had a winding stairway and an empty lobby. They exited onto the street. Under the sallow lamps, blue leaves sprouted from potted plants. The stores were empty and dark. Bokuto had a faster pace, walking slightly ahead and turning for the empty stores. Leaning over a decorative bench, he planted his palm over the window and leaned towards the rows of bread, barely illuminated by the moon. He twisted again and ran ahead to a boutique, where the drapes of the yellow sundress had transformed into a calm shade of dark primrose. Bokuto ducked under the sign and stepped towards another shop.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. His voice seemed louder in the quiet night. Bokuto halted in his steps, almost tripping over his feet. 

Don’t get too excited, it’ll be hard for you to sleep, he meant to say.

“Wait for me,” he said.

Bokuto liked the closed shops. He stopped in front of three more, peering around the closed signs and the single soft light cast upon the store names. The toy shop in particular had caught his attention. He stayed for some minutes, blinking at where the toys had gone to sleep in their small displays. He hunched forward to stare at a furry-looking toy, perhaps a dog, which had fallen to its side. The white of the fur glowed against the silent cabinet. Akaashi lingered by the trees. He stared at where the lamp had coaxed a tree to spread the branches across the flat head. The light diffused through the bluish-black leaves and fell in scattered droplets to the scratchy pavement. Bokuto didn’t appear interested, but he touched the bark of the trees. 

At the end of the street, Bokuto ran ahead to the corner shop. The tiny lamps still effused upon the scrawled signs. Through the glass, the packages of herbal medicine cast stark shadows. Bokuto yawned, though he tried to hide the sound beneath his hands. Up ahead, their gym sat squat on a gentle slope. The moon crested over the sharp points of the roof. Akaashi wrapped his scarf up to his nose to shield himself from the cold. A dog barked from a few streets away.

“We should go back,” Akaashi said. 

“I’m not tired yet!” 

“Do you usually walk until you’re tired?”

“I don’t know.” Bokuto shrugged like a petulant child. Akaashi rubbed his hands together. They had turned slightly dry.

“Tomorrow will be a fun day, too,” he said. “We’ll practice together.” 

The hotel lobby was still empty when they entered through the glass double doors. Akaashi treaded across the yielding orange carpet and opened the door to the stairs. Back in their room, he latched the door shut and straightened Bokuto’s shoes. Bokuto had already thrown his jacket across their chair and had begun to crawl onto his bed. 

“Wrong bed,” Akaashi said. When Bokuto turned curiously, Akaashi pointed to his own bed. He unzipped his jacket and folded it neatly over his bag. Bokuto stood over Akaashi’s bed with unusual hesitancy, eyes flickering to Akaashi and the bed and back again. Akaashi ignored him and slipped under the covers. He closed his eyes, and didn’t open them even when he felt his bed creak under some weight, the covers being pulled up, and someone joining beside him. 

Akaashi didn’t move when Bokuto tentatively wrapped an arm around him, which must have encouraged Bokuto to inch closer. He could feel Bokuto’s breathing, the rise and fall pressed against his back. The breathing eventually smoothed over into a soft snore, and Akaashi stared at the hotel door until he fell asleep. He awoke again later, though the time had been blocked by three books. Sleepiness pulled him back down again, heavy eyelids weighing the same as Bokuto’s warm arm still sprawled across his chest.


End file.
